


Guilt

by yanlovex3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Light Angst, Stockholm Syndrome, Yandere, alcohol use, the stockholm syndrome is RLLY strong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanlovex3/pseuds/yanlovex3
Summary: You’ve spent a little too long with Jesse and his lack of affection is beginning to bug you.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	Guilt

Every night ends like this. You in the bed, alone. Jesse in the living room, mulling over his thoughts with a shallow glass of liquor in one hand. But it’d always turn into many shallow glasses of liquor, to the point where you failed to understand why he didn’t just fill up the entire glass. Much to your chagrin, you’re starting to pity the way he staggers around after all that alcohol. He’s cried himself to sleep once, muttering strings of incoherent words into his pillow. He always sits, alone, letting something play out on television and you’ve began to develop an itch to join him.

Jesse doesn’t touch you in bed anymore and it’s disturbing how much that upsets you. After all, you’re here against your will. It’s wrong to want his touch; thinking about it takes you back to the days of the barrel of a gun kissing your back, cold metal on warm flesh, a quiet threat with a finger on the trigger. Intimacy in the severest sense of the word. The expectations for you to trust him not to shoot you and to silently comply with his demands could almost be considered a relationship.

Or something.

You shift around under the covers. Many bad memories have been made on this bed (and on every flat surface in the house, for that matter), so you’d usually be elated to have it to yourself without the fear of Jesse initiating something you wanted no part in. However, you’ve started to wish he’d initiate something- anything at all.

He doesn’t really show you affection when he’s drunk. It’s a slow, sloppy process. After an hour or so he turns off the television and stumbles through to the bedroom, where he’ll take off his belt and let it clatter to the floor. The rest follows with a variety of thumps and clunks until he pulls the covers back so he can crawl in beside you. Sometimes he gets comfortable, tossing an arm over you. Other times he barely moves and falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. You, though, you’re left awake.

Tonight should be a similar display.

The television is humming a tune you know a little too well. One of Jesse’s favourite shows, something you’ve never bothered to watch with him. He’d tried a few times, playing it idly in the background with the hope that you’d sit down and watch with him. Most notably during one of your first times of being allowed to move around the house without restraints. A sly smile on his face, you beside him, the first episode playing. You’d made an excuse, went to go and bake in the kitchen so you could be alone. Something he wasn’t sure whether to reward or punish- because he loved it when you did little things like that, when you played into his fantasies of having a wife. You did them with a religious breed of devotion so that he wouldn’t shoot you, or worse- impregnate you.

The episode was cut short halfway through and Jesse had clearly moved on to watching something else by the time you’d finished the batter. You’d been elated at the time.

Now, you wish you’d just joined him. Gritted your teeth and bared it for half an hour, it wasn’t too long, he’d be a happier man at the end. That was such a mean thing to do to Jesse, to lead him on with your company and trick him into thinking that you’d be spending some quality time with him.

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you realise that the television has been turned off. And so is the living room light, by the sounds of it.

You hear him progress towards the bedroom. A metal hand hits against the wall as he attempts to steady himself. As usual, you shut your eyes and wait until the door opens up, leaking the hall light into the bedroom that you can vaguely distinguish from behind your closed eyes.

“Darlin’? Y’sleep?” He slurs.

Oh, a chatting mood. Those are rare.

As much as you want to resist the temptation, it’s been a long time since you’ve actually talked, had any sort of meaningful conversation-

“Not yet, Jess.” You tell him, eyes cracking open.

He hums in acknowledgement. His belt is undone and you suppose this time he doesn’t bother removing it from his pants.

“Real sorry… y’don’t miss me, though, yeah?”

Not knowing what it means, you’re not sure how to reply.

Probably guilt. It’s the best conclusion you can come to.

“I miss you,” You say, toying with the comforter. “You’re warm and this bed gets really cold.”

You tell yourself you’re only saying it to prevent him from flying into a drunken rage. He’s never done that. Only been gentle or emotionally detached. Confiscated his gun from himself when he decided to drink heavily, just in case. Had only really started drinking daily about three weeks ago. He used to smoke cigars in the evening. It still surprises you when he climbs in beside you smelling not of tobacco, but alcohol.

“Nice… y’never say nice things t’me. What’s changed, (Y/N)?”

It’s more of a musing to himself than anything. He doesn’t even look at you as he unbuttons his shirt, abandoning it to the side.

“Not sure.” You whisper.

Because you truly are confused on the cause of this. Which is scary.

Maybe you’ve finally found yourself in a position where his fondness makes you happy. Probably out of desperation for human contact, but you’ll take what you can get.

“Still love you.”

“I know, Jess.”

“Even if ‘m not doin’ things like I used to.”

“That’s okay.”

“It doesn’t make a difference so I stopped tryin’.”

“What doesn’t make a difference?”

“Bein’… affectionate.”

You take a deep breath. Jesse first tries to get into bed through your side before correcting himself and staggering round to the other.

“I like it.” You mumble.

“You oughta tell me these things _before_ I start doin’ this t’myself…”

A pause.

“… don’t think you do, actually. It ain’t so bad not to enjoy it. Nobody wants t’be held by a stranger. I don’t mind, pumpkin.”

That’s a stunning show of self awareness that you’ve never seen in him before. But, somehow, it makes your heart pound and gut twist. Sliding along, you reach out for Jesse and attempt to pull his solid body closer to yours. He eventually turns over and makes it easier, pulling you into his chest eagerly with a satisfied hum.

You do it because he’s so close to the edge of the bed that you think he might fall off. Of course.

The man doesn’t even know what he’s doing. His words are so sad, but the squeeze he gives you before drifting off is accompanied with a beaming smile on his face, pearly whites reflecting in the dark.

You fall asleep soon after.

———

He’s hungover in the morning. The most you do is place a glass of water onto his bedside table before attending to your own affairs.

It’s more than anything you’ve ever done before.

Doing the breakfast dishes gives you some much-needed time to stare out of the window and ponder your feelings.

It’s comical, isn’t it? How things between you and Jesse worked out like a couple with a failing marriage and a dead bedroom. You’re not officially married, even if Jesse treats the situation like you are, but there’s still a possibility of making things official. Jesse had forced you to cut ties and burn bridges before taking you in, so you’re not declared missing.

You’re just a woman that suddenly decided to move in with what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. A questionable decision, but not one so unreasonable that it’d provoke people to ask questions. A typical whirlwind romance that’s lasted a little too long for your liking.

You space out, finding yourself scrubbing your plate for an absurd amount of time. Sighing, you place it on the rack.

But it’s not so bad, is it? Jesse’s reasonable. He only punishes you when necessary and has always tried to make intimacy a pleasant experience. It’s your fault for giving up on him so early, refusing to enjoy what he gives you. He’s always said that he only ever does these things for your protection, and who are you to complain? There are far worse situations you could be in. Homeless, working long hours to make ends meet, hell- even being painfully lonely in that small town he found you in. But, no. You live in a spacious house with a man that both loves you dearly and provides so that you can live comfortably.

 _Jesse’s the nicest captor you could get and all you do is neglect him_ , you think as you pour away the dishwater.

There’s still an echo of an argument in your head against this. One stating that nobody should be praised for being a nice captor, as he’s still kidnapped you.

You look out the window again. The chickens are clucking, Jesse must’ve dragged himself out of bed to tend to them. If he hadn’t, you’d have dealt with them. It’s such a beautiful sunrise and everything you’ve planted in the garden appears to be sprouting nicely.

You find yourself wondering, if you could escape… would you?

It seems like too much effort. All of your clothes and necessary possessions are here. You don’t have anywhere to go to. It’s too much effort. Your fantasies of a quiet life where you don’t have to work have been completely fulfilled and you know that if you ask for anything, the cowboy will try his best to rope it into your life, even if that means working illegally.

The one thing missing is Jesse’s usual amount of love for you.

For the first time in a while, you feel his arms enclose around your waist as he leans in, kissing the crook of your neck. It’s a reward for leaving him that glass of water, you can somehow tell. Jesse is a good man who lets go of these things easily enough, and he’s willing to return whatever love you give him.

“Mornin’ sweetie.” He mumbles, still holding onto you. You’re both looking out the window now. Shyly, one of your hands takes a hold of his, rubbing a thumb over the top of it. He hugs you tighter.

“Morning, Jesse. How’s your hangover?”

For a casual chat, you’re being very quiet. You know that you’re both catching on to the subtle meanings of this conversation. It’s more than just checking in with one another- it’s a peace treaty, an agreement to do better. One which will finally settle the indiscernible war that lingers in the air between you.

“Feels like it’s passing fast.”

He leans forward, planting a kiss on your cheek where his lips are barely touching your flesh.

You’ve lost the energy to hate him. Even the humiliation at the things he used to make you do is lost in your newfound feelings. He stopped being cruel long ago. You need to stop being apathetic.

“Was gonna leave today but I decided against it,” He announces, finally pulling back. “So I’m spending the day here.”

That’s good news. It’ll give you some time to make things up to him. Maybe you’ll even watch that episode of his show, give it some enthusiasm and validate his passion for it.

Anything to prevent another hour of lying awake in a cold bed tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> [💖Tumblr💖](https://www.tumblr.yanlovex3.com)


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